


Honey, there's a wolf under all that fur

by Demonfeathers



Category: Balto (1995), Disney Animated Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Apocalypse Disney, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:16:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonfeathers/pseuds/Demonfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for writing prompts on Tumblr and was given "post-apocalyptic Disney". I doubt this is quite what they had in mind, but here it is. Sad ending Balto, for all of you who are interested in ruining your childhoods today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey, there's a wolf under all that fur

In the end, it was too late.

Two days after Balto pulled the medicine into town, step by hard-won step, the first child dies. The medicine, for all that it was there in its miraculously unbroken bottles, came too late. There were too many delays on the trail, and all the risky sled running in the world couldn’t have gotten it there in time after spending that whole precious day wandering the forest unable to find the trail, and then lying left for dead at the bottom of the cliff and being forced to find a new route. Balto watches in mute shocked grief as Jenna’s child is lays dying, clinging for life until the last. She is among the final few to give out, her fingers curled weakly in Jenna’s fur until they finally go limp. Balto closes his eyes and lays down in the snow, unable to remain standing as Jenna’s grief stricken howl pierces the town. The next night, Balto shoulders his way into the shed where Steele has been sulking out of Jenna’s way after she bit him when she caught him smirking at Balto after the first few children died. “Looks like the big damn hero ain’t much of a hero after all, huh, mutt?” he’d murmured, brushing past, and if Jenna hadn’t reared up and snapped at him from where she’d been wandering past unnoticed, Balto would have done his level best to leave Steele without the use of his poisoned tongue ever again. He’d let it be in favor of comforting Jenna as best he could, but now Jenna was grieving at her child’s deathbed and Balto knew exactly where the blame for that situation could be placed. He’d had his suspicions out there in the woods, wandering from marked tree to marked tree, haunted by the barest snatches of a familiar scent buried under the snow. He’d known as soon as he’d seen Steele again, catching a full snout-full of him, just where that elusive scent had come from, just what had happened out there in the forest. There had been bigger problems to worry about before than what was to be done with the glory-seeking traitor, but now with everything in ashes and the future of the town in ruins, there was nothing stopping Balto from showing Steele just why the town had always been so afraid of the wolf in sheep’s clothing in their midst.

Steele sneered as Balto stepped into the shed, but the expression faltered at the look in Balto’s eyes. It wavered and dropped completely as the other dogs who had pulled the sled with Balto walked silently inside behind him, ranging across the walls and stopping in a half circle facing Steele, with Balto at their center. Balto looked down at him calmly, never growling or so much as raising his hackles at his old enemy, even as the other dogs bared their teeth at the one who had cost them so much.

“There is a reason why wolves run in packs, Steele. Just as there’s a reason why sled dogs pull together, in unison, and not just the best or strongest are harnessed up alone to pull” Balto said softly, quieting the others and lowering his head to stare straight into Steele’s eyes.

“I know that!” Steele snapped, surging to his feet and growling at this _interloper_ , this upstart who had stolen everything from him.

“Do you?” Balto muttered, raising his head again and looking down his nose coolly at the Malamute. “You certainly haven’t demonstrated that knowledge that I’ve ever seen it. Perhaps we should give you a refresher course, hmm, and show you just how wolf packs work together to bring down prey so much bigger than themselves?”

The other dogs shifted, rolling their muscles and stepping forward, further cutting Steele off from the door. Outside the winds howled, the blizzard having continued to rage and further cutting off Nome from any hope of outside help as their population dropped one by one in the sick house. If Balto listened, he could still hear Jenna’s howls in the wind, whether or not they were truly there, or just the blizzard reflecting his own grief back at him. Steele stared wildly around the room, his situation starting to sink in.

“What’re you- what are you doing? Guys, guys, what is this? Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steele demanded, backing up a few paces, glaring wide-eyed and panicked at his old sled mates.

“You don’t act against the best interests of the pack, Steele,” Nikki growled softly. “Or you aren’t part of the pack. And as you have so often told us, we don’t tolerate interlopers around here.”

Steele stared, frozen, and then with a burst of panicked movement tried to launch his way past the dog’s barricade and out the shed door to freedom. Outside, the wind howled.  
The pack pounced.

Later, the dogs trailed out of the shed one by one, following Balto’s lead of wiping their paws and muzzles clean in the snow outside before wandering back into town silently. It would be a long time before anyone came looking in that old shack on the edge of town, and by that time the snow would have piled deep over the bloody prints around the door.

…

The snow didn’t stop. Soon it wasn’t just the children being placed in rough pine coffins, laid out side by side behind the doctor’s office, waiting for the thaws of spring when the ground could be dug for graves. As the cold grew ever more bitter and the food ever scarcer, the weak and elderly began to follow the young ones into death. The dogs watched grimly as the town’s population dwindled and the winds whipped the snow banks high. Their food bowls were filled more and more rarely, and with less and less food. Some of the less hardened dogs complained, but most just watched their owners with sad eyes and said nothing. When he wasn’t comforting Jenna, Balto disappeared for long stretches of time off into the snows, coming back covered in the smell of polar bear and goose. Boris was camped out with Muk and Luk in the decommissioned old steamer that sat had sat wrecked and frozen in the bay for so long. The polar bears were unaffected for the most part by the snows, and continued to fish through the holes they broke in the ice around the ship. They shared with Boris and Balto, and Balto often brought back what he could for Jenna. She had slipped into a depression after the death of her girl, and could often barely bring herself to eat what little her owners could spare her. There were a few envious looks and some protests at first at the smell of fresh meat on their breath, but those were quickly stifled by the other sled dogs and they were left in peace. In gratitude, Balto dragged back a whole fish, heavier than Boris and as long as his wings, for the others to share that Muk and Luk had given him. The first fresh meat in weeks was quickly shredded and devoured, and Balto cemented more than a few loyalties with that.

It couldn’t last though. Lines of communication had long been shut down, and the few who ventured out into the blinding snows in desperation never returned. Food was running out. Perhaps Balto, with his hard eyes and wolf heart, saw it coming. Perhaps Boris, who despite his blustering knew humans only too well, understood the inevitable. Certainly the other dogs never expected it, for all that this winter had stripped the innocence from everyone.

Jenna was the one who saw it first.

She was walking past the back of the butcher’s shop, heading from her home to the shed where the other dogs gathered to meet Balto, who had gone out to help Muk and Luk fish this morning. When she first saw the tufts of black fur blowing on the wind, she could only stare blankly. One tuft landed at her feet and she lowered her head to sniff it, staring in bewilderment as a faint whiff of Steele’s scent reached her nose. She had not seen Steele since before her girl had died, and for all that she had sunk into a haze of depression following that, she was no fool. She had seen the banked rage and grief in Balto’s eyes, echoing her own, and had smelled the blood on his and the others’ fur. She could put two and two together, and had known with certainty what had happened when Balto curled around her that night and murmured softly in her ears how he would keep her safe, how sorry he was that he hadn’t been faster, stronger, quicker. That he hadn’t learned how to be a wolf sooner. She had known, then. Balto wasn’t the mutt who skulked around the edges of town anymore, trying so hard to fit in and not scare anyone. He had changed, out there in the snow, and those changes had deepened, hardened in the wake of the children’s deaths. He had learned how to make the hard decisions, how to do whatever it took to keep him and his safe.

All of which didn’t explain the black fur blowing around the back door of the butcher’s shop, disappearing into the whiteness that covered everything. Jenna crept forward, head lowered and pricked as she picked her way through the ice and snow piles to the window by the back door. She reared up against the wall, pushing her head up just enough to see inside the back room of the shop. She didn’t comprehend what her eyes were showing her at first. The familiar sight of the butcher’s block and his rows of knives and saws all seemed the same, and held no horror for her. She had lived in this town all her life after all, and many of the town’s dogs had spent long summer afternoons peering in this very window and licking their chops, hoping for scraps. The butcher’s shop had been cold and dark lately though, for with the blizzard raging no one had been able to hunt and fresh meat had become a delicacy of the past. So the limp figure laid out on the block took a moment to resolve itself into a familiar shape in Jenna’s depression fogged mind.  
When she recognized Steele’s body, ravaged as it was, she felt her stomach drop. She stared, frozen, for what could have been hours or seconds. The sound of boots on wood filtered into her awareness, bringing her back to the present and making her duck her head, eyes wide, as the butcher walked back into the room, followed by Steele’s owner and the mayor. They looked down at the body stretched out on the block in front of them, Steele’s owner bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as his head bowed and his shoulders shook. The mayor rested a hand on one of his shoulders, the butcher looking on sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, truly I am,” the mayor said, his voice carrying faintly through the closed window to Jenna, who swiveled her ears back up from where they had plastered themselves against her skull in shock. “He was a great dog, one of the best, and he will be sorely missed. But this may be a blessing in disguise. You know as well as all of us how desperate the food situation is becoming. If the blizzard keeps up there’ll be nothing to be had even once it’s over, and no way to get more. Perhaps Steele can do this town one last service, in death?”

Steele’s owner looked away, holding his shoulders stiffly and tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling with his hand still clamp firmly over his mouth. There was a long silence, and Jenna tipped her head in confusion. What on earth were they talking about? The sight of Steele had shocked her into clearer thinking than she’d managed since her girl had smiled at her for the last time, and she had a sinking feeling about this whole situation. She didn’t fault Balto for what he had done- if she had been any less sunken into her grief, she had no doubt that her rage would have driven her to stand at his side and rip into Steele for what he had however inadvertently caused along with him. Now, however, she didn’t like what she was seeing one bit and the mayor’s words carried an ominous ring to her ears, however sympathetically and gently they’d been delivered.

“Do what’s necessary,” Steele’s owner finally says, not looking at the body in front of him. “It was going to come to this soon anyway. Just… I didn’t think it would be him. He was such a strong dog, I thought that if it came to this, it would be one of the others, not my lead-“

He cut himself off and looked down at the broken pile of fur in front of him. “Do what’s necessary,” he repeated, sounding weary. “And give me a bit, would you, before you come knocking at my door asking for any of the others? I know one dog isn’t going to go far, but….” His jaw clenched, and he didn’t react as the mayor squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “Of course. Thank you. I’m sorry it’s come to this, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s not your fault, I know that. And you’re right; better to put him to some final use rather than let him go to waste. Not like anything’s gonna bring him back now. I just can’t believe it’s truly come to this…. My god, eating the dogs to survive….” He sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly.

Jenna choked.

As the butcher stepped forward with a sympathetic nod in Steele’s owner’s direction and he and the mayor turned to leave, Jenna bolted. She practically flew over the harsh ice of the streets towards the dog’s shed, ears back and breath coming hard and fast. Despite the horror lying thick on the back of her tongue, her mind was clear, sharp with adrenaline and focused on a clear goal for the first time in ages.

Balto would know what to do. He was part wolf- he would know how to survive.

…

The shed was perfectly silent and still for a stifling moment after Jenna finished her breathless explanation, eyes wide and mouth open and panting from her panicked flight from the butcher’s. Then the realization of what the situation meant for them struck through the shock and pandemonium erupted.

The dogs yelled over one another, desperate and terrified, arguing with each other that no, surely their owners would never allow this, not after how faithful they had been, how much they had given to try and keep them safe? They would never stand for this, never! But everyone was starving, and perhaps the dogs who had failed their children really would be the first to go… they were a burden, after all, weren’t they? They ate food that could be going to the people, and were useless for sled pulling as long as the snows kept up. Voices rose higher and hackles with them, the atmosphere in the shed quickly approaching the breaking point as denial gave way to terror. Balto’s voice rose above the others.

“Enough!”

The silence was sudden and deafening. Everyone looked to the wolf dog in their midst. Balto, however, had eyes only for Jenna.

“Jenna. Tell me exactly what you heard, as word for word as you can remember it. Can you do that for me?” Balto asked, his reassuring tone at odds with the worry in his eyes. Jenna stared for a moment, wondering. Could she? Could she do more than relay the bare bones of the betrayal awaiting them? Relive that monstrosity?

Jenna felt shaken, weak, reeling from too many blows too quick in succession. But more than that, over all of that, she felt… hardened. Her head finally shocked clear of its cobwebs, like plunging into icy water.

Jenna sat down, took a deep breath, and started at the beginning.

…

The debate on what to do about their new situation lasted well into the night. Several of the dogs suggested holding the shed, attacking any humans that tried to come inside and sticking together so that no one got taken alone. That got shot down when one of the others derisively asked “And what will you do when they bring their guns, huh? Eat the bullets in place of all the food they’ll not be feeding us, I suppose?” That deflated quite a few spirits that had still been in denial, thinking they could simply force their way through this.

Jenna lay morosely by Balto’s side. “You know, they aren’t being evil. It would be easier, really, if they were… it would be an injustice, something to fight… but the mayor was right. They’re running out of food, fast, and we’re a burden at the moment. Those of us who are pets are eating food meant for the families, and what… what few children are left. Even the sled dogs can’t be useful at the moment, with the storm the way it is, and until that lets up we’re all a burden. One they can’t afford. As it is, we’re more useful for the meat we provide than the meat we eat. And they care, I’m sure they do, but… any ship in a storm, I suppose. I just don’t know what to do.” There was a long silence.

“We leave.”

The other dogs looked in surprise at Balto, who started determinedly back. He had been silent most of the evening, sitting beside Jenna and deep in thought as the others argued around them.

“We can’t just leave! There’s the blizzard of a century raging out there!” Kaltag shouted, staring at Balto in shock. “Besides, then what? Even if we don’t end up hopelessly lost and somehow we find food, where do we go? There’s not another settlement around for miles and miles!”

“I know, but what are our chances staying here? Starving in this town, being picked off one by one to go in the supper pot? The humans are as desperate as we are. There’s no future for us here. Look at us. We’re cowering in this shed, same as we have since… since this all started. Even if the blizzard lets up tomorrow and rescue teams show up with food, what of us? We’ll be useful again, an affordable luxury again. I know Jenna’s right, it’s not really their fault, not truly, but I want each of you to look me in the eye and tell me you could bring yourselves to trust them again after this. We’ll always be on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the sound of a gun cocking over our shoulders. That’s no way to live! I say we leave. None of you have to come, and I’m not saying our chances are any better out there. Surviving will be hard, maybe impossible. Maybe we’ll all starve. But the same can be said for staying here, and personally I’d rather take my chances out there than trying to trust this fickle town to judge me a necessary resource drain.” Balto scowled, and the others were vividly reminded of the rocks thrown, the sticks shaken in Balto’s direction so often before the medicine run. They shifted uneasily, able to picture someone shooting ‘that damn wolf’ for eating food that could easily go to the humans far too clearly.

Balto laid his ears back self-consciously, glancing around the room. “It’ll be hard. I can make no guarantees that any of us will survive, but… I can’t make the guarantee that you’ll survive if you stay here either. It’ll be better if more of us go, I think…. There’ll be more mouths to feed, but more of us to hunt, too. And less strain on the food sources here, so those who stay will have a better chance of making it to spring. Even if none of you come with me, I’m going. There’s too much chance that I’ll be the first one they take, and Muk and Luk are growing up fast. They won’t be able to stay so close to a human settlement for long anyway. I’ll take the boys and Boris and head out tomorrow. You’re all welcome to join us, but I understand if you’d rather stay.”

He finished his speech and sat back down beside Jenna, who raised herself up to watch him, glancing around the room to find the others trading looks amongst themselves. The silence was eventually broken by Star, who stepped forward, quivering and nervous, and swallowed a few times before addressing Balto.

“I’d like to go with you Balto, I would, but… I just don’t see how I’ll be any use out there. I’m small, I don’t think I’d be any good for helping bring down prey if you’re going to hunt…. I mean, I assume that’s what you’re planning? To live like, like, wolves?” he stammered.

“Yeah, that was the plan. But I wouldn’t sell yourself so short, Star. You might not be able to bring down any elk, but you’re fast. And there’ll be nothing bigger than the occasional squirrel to be had for some time, I imagine. You would be invaluable hunting for rabbits and stuff like that, I’ll bet,” Balto said, crouching down so he was level with Star and looking him straight in the eyes. “I can’t guarantee anyone. But I promise you all that I’ll do everything in my power to keep us alive. This is the only solution I can see that has a chance of keeping some of us alive,” he finished, straightening up and looking over the group. “Some of us should stay. Some of you aren’t used to the conditions out there, and stand a better chance staying here and trying to wait it out. But the more of us stay, the less food there is, and the more chance that the humans come after us to keep from starving. I don’t want to die. Not when I’ve just finally come to terms with myself, what I am and what I’m capable of. So I’m going. You’ve got until tomorrow to decide whether or not you want to join me. I won’t leave until I know for sure who’s going and who’s coming. Think on it.”

There were long looks passed between the group again as Balto laid down with a sigh and put his head on his paws. He lifted it again when Star spoke.

“I’ll come.”

The others stared.

“Star, are you mad?” demanded Dixie.

“No! I just- if Balto believes I can do it, then I’ll come. I’m a sled dog. I can do this. Or I can try, at least. And I won’t last long here. I’m not… I’m not- worth anything, here. Not now. So uh, I’ll go with Balto. Maybe it’ll help,” Star finished weakly, lowering his head and looking rather uncomfortable with all the attention focused on him.

“Thank you Star,” Balto said warmly. “We’ll be happy to have you.”

“I hope you don’t think you’re leaving me behind,” Jenna said softly. “I might not know much about how to survive the wilderness, but I doubt many of us do, and another set of teeth and paws can’t hurt.”

Balto grinned, looking relieved. “I could hardly leave without you Jenna. We’ll make a wolf out of you, just you watch.”

The words should have sent a chill through her, but as the others glance between themselves and began to step forward, one by one, Jenna can only grin back, teeth bared as a purpose solidified in her mind for the first time in what felt like ages. For the first time since her Rose died.

She would survive. She would help the pack survive. She would follow Balto into the unceasing snows, and never look back.

…

The next day, they slip away in twos and threes, down deserted alleyways and abandoned side streets, converging outside of town at the old steamer where Boris, Muk and Luk waited. Boris couldn’t fly in these conditions, not yet, but Muk and Luk would take turns carrying him and when the winds let up he would fly ahead and scout for shelter and food for them. Muk and Luk had grown significantly over the winter, standing twice as tall as they had before with their baby fat finally smoothing out somewhat, transforming into muscle that made several of the dogs keep their distance and eye their thick necks and shoulders warily. Balto sat beside them, waiting as the dogs gathered. Jenna sat at his side, her red fur much more visible than Balto’s grey or the other’s white colorings. All of the sled dogs were gathered, and as they watched, Dixie and Sylvie approached, walking up to Jenna and brushing their muzzles together.

“We’re not coming,” Sylvie explained. “We’d never make it out there. We just wanted to say goodbye to Jenna and the rest of you.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said, leaning into them one last time. Balto and the others repeated the sentiment, the others saying their goodbyes as well. Dixie and Sylvie nodded to them and stood back, watching as the rest of the group got to their feet and turned to go. Muk muttered something to Boris which had him clucking his tongue, but he climbed up on Muk’s back without much complaint. The polar bears started walking, Balto and Jenna behind. The rest of the pack fell into step behind them, and the whole group was quickly lost in the whiteness.

“Do you think they’ll survive?” Dixie asked, staring after them.

“Balto’s always been a survivor. He’ll figure something out. I’d be more worried about us, darling,” Sylvie answered, looking back over the town, nearly hidden by the snow blowing past. She sighed.

“It’s going to be a long winter.”

They started back, a tuft of black fur blowing past them unseen. It caught briefly on the edge of a paw print, before snow started to fill it in and the winds grabbed it again, blowing it out to sea.


End file.
